The Gathering Storm

Egwene felt a sudden chill, like an ice cold spike pounded directly through her back and down into her chest. Black Ajah. Verin was Black. Light!

Egwene immediately reached for the One Power. But of course the forkroot made that effort futile. And Egwene herself had been the one to suggest it be given to her! Light, had she taken leave of her senses? She'd been so confident and certain following her victory that she hadn't anticipated what might happen if she ran into a Black sister. But who could anticipate running into a Black sister? Finding one sitting calmly on your bed, drinking tea and looking at you with those eyes that always had seemed to know too much. What better way to hide than as an unassuming Brown, constantly dismissed by the other sisters because of your distracted, scholarly ways?

"My, but this is good tea," Verin said. "When you next see Laras, please thank her on my behalf for providing it. She promised that she had some that hadn't spoiled, but I didn't trust her. Can't trust much these days, can you?"

"What, is Laras a Darkfriend?" Egwene asked.

"Heavens, no," Verin said. "She's many things, but not a Darkfriend. You'd sooner find a Whitecloak marrying an Aes Sedai than find Laras swearing to the Great Lord. Extraordinary woman. And quite good at judging the flavor of teas."

"What are you going to do with me?" Egwene said, forcing herself to speak calmly. If Verin had wanted to kill her, the deed would have been done by now. Obviously Verin wanted to use Egwene, and use would give Egwene opportunity. Opportunity for escape, opportunity to turn the situation around. Light, this was bad timing!

"Well," Verin said, "first I will ask you to sit. I would offer you some tea, but I sincerely doubt you want any of what I'm having."

Think, Egwene! she told herself. Calling for help would be futile; only novices were likely to hear, as her Red keepers had both run off. Of all the times to be alone! She'd never have thought that she'd wish for jailers nearby.

Anyway, if she yelled, Verin would undoubtedly bind and gag her with weaves of Air. And if any novices did hear, they'd run to see what was the problem—and that would only pull them into Verin's clutches as well. So Egwene pulled over the room's single wooden stool and sat upon it, backside protesting the uncushioned wood.

The small room was still and quiet, cold and sterile, as it had been unoccupied for four days. Egwene sought furiously for an avenue of escape.

"I compliment you on what you've done here, Egwene," Verin said.

"I've followed some little of the foolishness going on between the Aes Sedai factions, though I decided not to get involved personally. It was more important to continue my research and keep an eye on young alThor. He's a fiery one, I must say. I worry about the lad. I'm not certain he understands how the Great Lord works. Not all evil is as ... obvious as the Chosen. The Forsaken, as you'd call them."

"Obvious?" Egwene said. "The Forsaken?"

"Well, by comparison." Verin smiled and warmed her hands on her cup of tea. "The Chosen are like a bunch of squabbling children, each trying to scream the loudest and attract their father's attention. It's easy to determine what they want: Power over the other children, proof that they are the most important. I'm convinced that it isn't intelligence, craftiness, or skill that makes one Chosen—though of course, those things are important. No, I believe it is selfishness the Great Lord seeks in his greatest leaders."

Egwene frowned. Were they really having a quiet chat about the Forsaken? "Why would he choose that quality?"

"It makes them predictable. A tool you can depend upon to act as expected is far more valuable than one you cannot understand. Or perhaps because when they struggle against one another, it makes only the strong ones survive. I don't know, honestly. The Chosen are predictable, but the Great Lord is anything but. Even after decades of study, I can't be certain exactly what he wants or why he wants it. I only know that this battle isn't being fought the way that al'Thor assumes it will be."

"And what does this have to do with me?" Egwene asked.

"Not much," Verin said, tsking at herself. "I'm afraid I let myself get sidetracked. And with so little time, too. I really must pay attention." She still seemed like the pleasant, scholarly Brown sister. Egwene had always expected that Black sisters would be ... different.

"Anyway," Verin continued. "We were talking about what you did here, in the Tower. I was afraid that I'd come and find you still dawdling with your friends outside. Imagine my amazement at finding that you'd not only infiltrated Elaida's regime, but had apparently turned half of the Hall itself against her. You've certainly riled some of my associates, I can tell you that. They are none too pleased." Verin shook her head, taking another sip of tea.

"Verin, I. . . ." Egwene paused. "What is—"

"No time, I'm afraid," Verin said, leaning forward. Suddenly, something about her seemed to change. Though she was still the aged—and at times motherly—woman, her expression grew more determined. She caught Egwene's eyes, and the intensity within that gaze shocked Egwene. Was this the same woman?

"Thank you for humoring a woman's rambles," Verin said, voice more soft. "It was so very nice to have a quiet chat over tea, at least once more. Now, there are some things you need to know. A number of years ago, I faced a decision. I found myself in a position where I could either take the oaths to the Dark One, or I could reveal that I had actually never wanted—or intended—to do so, whereupon I would have been executed.

"Perhaps another would have found a way around this situation. Many would have simply opted for death. I, however, saw this as an opportunity. You see, one rarely has such a chance as this, to study a beast from inside its heart, to see really what makes the blood flow. To discover where all of the little veins and vessels lead. Quite an extraordinary experience."

"Wait," Egwene said. "You joined the Black Ajah to study them?"

"1 joined them to keep my skin intact," Verin said, smiling. "I'm rather fond of it, though Tomas did go on about these white hairs. Anyway, after joining them, the chance to study them was my making the best of the situation."

"Tomas. Does he know what you've done?"

"He was a Darkfriend himself, child," Verin said. "Wanting a way out. Well, there really isn't a way out, not once the Great Lord has his claws in you. But there was a way to fight, to make up for a little of what you've done. I offered that chance to Tomas, and I believe he was quite grateful to me for it."

Egwene hesitated, trying to take all of this in. Verin was a Dark-friend . . . but not one at the same time. "You said he 'was' quite grateful to you?"

Verin didn't answer immediately. She simply took another sip of her tea. "The oaths one makes to the Great Lord are quite specific," she finally continued. "And, when they are placed upon one who can channel, they are quite binding. Impossible to break. You can double-cross other Dark-friends, you can turn against the Chosen if you can justify it. Selfishness must be preserved. But you can never betray him. You can never betray the order itself to outsiders. But the oaths are specific. Very specific." She looked up, meeting Egwene's eyes. " 'I swear not to betray the Great Lord, to keep my secrets until the hour of my death.' That was what I promised. Do you see?"

Egwene looked down at the steaming cup in Verin's hands. "Poison?"